


metachrosis

by simaetha



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU - Pulp Sci-Fi, Established Relationship, M/M, Somewhat Handwaved Cephalopod Biology, Tentacles, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 17:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12916344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simaetha/pseuds/simaetha
Summary: Celebrimbor and his boyfriend take a romantic walk on the beach.





	metachrosis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yavieriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yavieriel/gifts).



> I don't even know where to start.
> 
> ...okay, fine. This came out of a discussion of what it would take for a "modern" AU to be interesting in this fandom, and the answer is "if one of the characters is an ~~evil~~ shapeshifting alien". Please imagine your own dramatic backstory featuring alien invasions, world-saving and betrayal: I recommend assuming that Annatar switched sides at _least_ twice.
> 
> This was in large part Yavieriel's idea but I can't really pretend it was her fault <3

The air was sticky-hot; the sea washed cool against his feet, pale surf and dark water fading back towards the horizon, as the late-summer evening slowly fell towards night.

“That looks,” Annatar said, from behind him, “like an excellent idea.” His voice was amused. Tyelpe turned, and saw him standing above the waterline, bare toes curling into the sand.

He looked, of course, entirely unperturbed by the heat; even slumming in jeans and t-shirt, he gave the impression of having just walked off a fashion shoot, golden hair falling perfectly silken around his face. There were a number of things about Annatar that had become abruptly more explicable in retrospect: in Tyelpe’s opinion, this was almost certainly one of them.

“Come in, then,” Tyelpe said, smiling. A month ago he would have looked away when Annatar smiled back and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it onto the sand. Now he watched, and caught the pleasure in Annatar’s eyes.

It was, in all honesty, difficult not to be curious. Annatar’s imitation of humanity was anatomically perfect – Tyelpe should know – but –

Was that a little more flexibility, to his movements, than should really have been possible? A slight sheen to his skin? After a certain point Tyelpe had to wonder if he was imagining things, but it really was impossible not to speculate.

Annatar stepped into the water. Tyelpe reached out a hand, grinning, stepping back until they stood waist-deep in the ocean, tugging Annatar with him.

The waves were gentle, the curve of the bay breaking tides. More than that, it was _private_ , with only the lights of the beach-house spilling out behind them.

“So,” he asked, deliberately light, “is _your_ planet at all like this?”

Annatar raised an eyebrow.

“What, possessed of oceans and sand? Or is that a more conceptual enquiry – “

“Yes, fine, it’s a very imprecise question and I’m fishing for information,” Tyelpe said, smiling again, watching Annatar flicker through expressions before settling, again, on amusement. “Come on, Annatar, you _know_ I’m curious.”

Annatar made a face.

“I’d have expected you to have had enough of dealing with _my_ planet,” he said, a little plaintively. “It was all a rather unfortunate incident, but I do _like_ things here.”

Tyelpe paused to consider this, and pushed him over into the water.

“ _Tyelperinquar_ – “

There was a certain amount of undignified splashing, ending with Tyelpe pausing to shove his hair out of his eyes and cough salt water. At arm’s length, Annatar gave him an irritated look that might have passed for concern.

“ _Unfortunate incident_ ,” Tyelpe said, after he caught his breath, in a scathing tone that might have come close to conveying sufficient sarcasm. “Anyway. Annatar. I want to _know_. There’s so much – “ He gestured with his hands, widely. “We don’t _have_ interstellar travel, or not yet, anyway, this is _fascinating_ , really we ought to be publishing this though I _do_ understand your objections.” The latter came out on one breath. Annatar almost smiled. “But – “

He reached out, taking Annatar’s hand again.

“What do _you_ look like?” he asked. “Don’t tell me _this_ , you know what I mean.”

Annatar looked at him.

“Tyelpe,” he said, after a moment, carefully. “Does it matter to you?”

“Not like _that_ , only – “ Tyelpe hesitated, and sighed, stepping closer, setting his hand to the other’s hip. “I _am_ curious, but you don’t have to tell me unless you want to. That was all it was, Annatar.”

He was almost surprised, when Annatar closed the distance between them, and kissed him, carefully.

“Annatar – “

“Well, if you _want_ to know,” Annatar said, pulling back. He was smiling, though his gaze was sharp. “I suppose I won’t insult you by asking if you’re sure.”

The light was an amber glint in his eyes, catching water-dark hair and smooth skin. That was changing, Tyelpe realised, the tone of his skin subtly shifting, pupils contracting and – no, the _shape_ twisting, strangely, a thick horizontal bar across the striated gleam of the iris –

He reached up, almost without thinking, touching the other’s face. A strand of Annatar’s hair, glittering-dark, wrapped around his finger: a faint prickle of sensation. The skin was still soft. Tyelpe found himself smiling, amazed.

A tilt of Annatar’s head.

“Can I?” Tyelpe asked, breathless with fascination. Annatar gave him a measuring look before shrugging assent. There was something subtly different about the movement of his shoulders. Tyelpe stepped in, wanting to run his hands over them, find the alignment of the bone underneath – there had to _be_ a skeletal structure, surely –

He couldn’t slide a hand through Annatar’s hair; it twisted against his fingers, coiling, a not-quite-stinging sensation kindling in his skin. Tyelpe stilled, instinctively, shivering a little: the strands twined around his wrist and then lapsed, letting him go.

Something brushed against his legs. He glanced down, instinctively trying to make out the shape hidden by the darkening glint of evening over the waves.

“What _is_ – ahh, Annatar – “

“Enough?” Annatar asked, looking – amused, a little resigned. Near-pitying. It was occasionally infuriating, Tyelpe thought, how Annatar would take any opportunity to insist that he’d somehow _won_ , the expression readable even past the alien cast of his features.

Tyelpe kissed him, instead.

He was careful, keeping the press of his mouth gentle, trying to learn again the feel of it. Nothing would have made him close his eyes: he blinked, trying to pay attention to everything at once, the sensation and the ocean taste and the – the pattern that flickered briefly over Annatar’s skin, a sudden rush of contrast, golden highlights against darkness –

Eventually he pulled back, smiling helplessly, trying to catch his breath. Something had relaxed, in Annatar’s posture, a tension that had been there and was gone.

“Of course not,” Tyelpe said, fondly, and then glanced down again, raising an eyebrow. “But _is_ that – “

The grasp around his calf tightened, not uncomfortably, and then a tentacle raised itself out of the water, twisting around his waist in a single easy motion. Tyelpe blinked, again, then reached down into the water, searching until he found the smooth feel of it.

He might almost have laughed; he caught himself, and ran his fingers over the sleek muscle until a row of suckers clamped hard onto his skin, tight around his wrist. Then did laugh out loud, at that, unable to prevent it.

“ _You_ ,” Annatar said, mock-exasperated but still warm, and kissed him again. It was a brief, delicate gesture, but Tyelpe tugged his hand free – the coil released as soon as he tried to pull away – and deepened it, wrapping his arms around the other’s shoulders.

Careful, still. Annatar’s teeth were sharp; Tyelpe winced, for a moment, and let Annatar hum apology, showing a flash of darkness over his skin. His fingers slid through the wet tangles of Tyelpe’s hair.

It was Annatar who broke the kiss, at length. He was twined around Tyelpe, tentacles wrapped around Tyelpe’s legs and back; gold washed over his skin, bright and dark, a complex repeating pattern Tyelpe could almost make out.

He’d have to spend more time watching, next time they tried this, Tyelpe thought, happily.

“Shall I change back?” Annatar asked. His expressions were getting harder to make out, but Tyelpe knew him too well not to recognise the affection in his voice.

“It can’t be any stranger for me than it is for _you_ the other way,” Tyelpe pointed out, and Annatar laughed, skin brightening.

“I’m not sure the experience _exactly_ translates,” he said, teasing, and pulled Tyelpe to him, rolling back – there was a fast, confusing moment, and they were back in the shallows, waves breaking around them, strands of Annatar’s hair feathering around his shoulders, moving slightly against the current. Tyelpe licked his mouth, tasting salt water again, and looked down at him.

There was a flutter of gills at what must still be Annatar’s ribs, as he sat up on his elbows in the sand, water flowing over him. Tyelpe took only a moment to stare, and then ran his hand over the smoothness of the other’s abdomen, then downward, investigatory.

“Actually, no,” Annatar said, amused, and Tyelpe made a face at him, then sucked in a breath as – something flicked against his legs, pressing between his thighs. He tensed despite himself – the tentacles wrapping him tightened for a moment, before carefully releasing their grip – then, reminding himself to relax, reached down. It was a tentacle, like the others, but narrow and slick and velvet-soft over the dense layering of muscle.

When Tyelpe thumbed at it, Annatar shuddered, the barred pupils widening, gold flaring to near-luminescence over his skin.

“I – yes, that’s _good_ – “

It was difficult to make it work, exactly, their bodies not quite in alignment. Tyelpe started to kneel over Annatar in the water, parting his legs in invitation, but Annatar shook his head, tightly, fingers braced against the sand beneath. At length they settled against each other, Tyelpe rocking his hips forward against smooth undulating flesh, while Annatar pressed against him, wrapped tight all around him, blunt nails digging into his shoulders and back.

He couldn’t help but mouth at him, chasing flickering patterns with his tongue. Annatar arched up out of the water and hissed, giving way to strange harmonics that shivered through Tyelpe’s bones, and a rattling series of clicks that made Tyelpe press his face into Annatar’s throat, gasping at the feel of it.

When it was over, Annatar pulled them back onto the sand – a quick lithe motion, gills pressing closed in the air. His colours were dulled, a little. Tyelpe tipped his head back, and let himself breathe, for a while.

Annatar was shifting, when he looked again, a disconcerting coalescence into what passed for human form. Tyelpe sat up, feeling oddly disappointed; as Annatar drew himself back into familiar lines of muscle and bone, stretching out and arching his spine as the process finished.

He glanced up at Tyelpe, and raised an eyebrow.

“So when you said the experience doesn’t _exactly_ translate,” Tyelpe started: and then paused, noticing the flushed sucker-marks tracing themselves over his skin. He hesitated, and poked at a line of markings, feeling only a slight sensitivity there.

When he looked up again, Annatar was smiling at him.

“Come on,” Annatar said, rolling to his feet, tugging Tyelpe up with one hand. “There should be dinner somewhere in the house. I’m sure you’ll only be better fortified to question me afterwards.”

“We couldn’t just quickly go over a _few_ points on the way – “

“ _Later_ ,” Annatar said, with a sharp grin. “Come on. We can always try it again some time if you forget,” he added, and Tyelpe beamed at him, letting himself be pulled along.

  


End file.
